


Hunters And Wolves

by JusteAmusant



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Big Brother Sam, Crack, Crossover, Dean hates Derek, Forced Alliance, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Reluctant Dean Winchester, The Winchesters are in Beacon Hills, Vampires, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-23 01:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusteAmusant/pseuds/JusteAmusant
Summary: Expecting to hear the usual, “go home, Stiles,” he’s taken aback when Derek asks, “Who the hell are Sam and Dean?”“We’re hunters,” a deep voice rumbles behind him.Stiles squeaks in surprise and whirls around, blinking rapidly to clear his vision so he can take in the two six-foot-plus hallucinations standing in front of him.“Hunters,” Derek growls, and the fact that he has no idea who he’s looking at somehow makes it through the haze of Stiles’ brain.“Derek, wait-”“Hunters,” a second deep voice, with a little more roughness to it, confirms. He raises his gun and points it straight at Derek’s chest. “And we kill werewolves.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I...I don't even know. In my head, Stiles loves Supernatural, Dean would hate Derek, Derek would protect Stiles at all costs even if he can't admit it, and Sam and Stiles were totally meant to be bros
> 
> I'm sorry
> 
> (Title credit - Hunters and Wolves by Delta Goodrem...if you were ever looking for a TW/SPN Crossover song, kids, this is it)

“Oh man. This is too cool. If only Sam and Dean were real, dude, and could see this. This is the coolest-”

_ “Stiles.” _

“Right, yep, move the beam, on it.” Stiles crouches down next to where the now splintered wooden beam has Derek’s right leg trapped. “I mean, werewolves are real, so why not vampires, right, but holy buckets they came out of nowhere! And their fangs actually-”

“Stiles, if you don’t shut your mouth right now and help me -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll rip my throat out with your teeth.” Stiles grasps Derek’s forearm and Derek does the same to him, and together they pull Derek into a sitting position, though his leg is still trapped. “How come you can’t wolf out and launch this thing off you with your super strength?”

“Because vampire bites hurt like a bitch, Stiles. Just help me get some leverage and I can move it.” The sharp hitch in Derek’s breath that indicates real pain has Stiles shutting up and doing what he’s told. 

He stays in a crouch but centers his weight, planting his feet so he can lend all the muscle he can. On a quick count of three -because hurry  _ up _ , Stiles, Derek growls- they manage to heft the beam upward with enough room for Derek to slide free. He scoots ungracefully across the floor on his ass, out of the way when they let the beam drop again. Stiles doesn’t bother waiting for thanks, because he knows it won’t come. 

Not verbally anyway. Repayment will come whenever the next time Stiles’ mouth or his friends get him in enough trouble that he needs Derek and his crazy wolf senses to bail him out. 

Expecting to hear the usual, “go home, Stiles,” he’s taken aback when Derek asks, “Who the hell are Sam and Dean?”

Stiles stares for a moment, then his entire body is reanimating, his brain rapidly spilling the explanation out of his mouth. “Dude! Have you never watched TV? Supernatural, man, Sam and Dean are like the most badass...you’re a werewolf, huh, yeah, maybe you wouldn’t enjoy it much. but there are monsters and guns and a sexy black car and knives and daggers and deals and spells and Sam and Dean are -”

“We’re hunters,” a deep voice rumbles behind him. 

Stiles squeaks in surprise and whirls around, blinking rapidly to clear his vision so he can take in the two six-foot-plus hallucinations standing in front of him. 

“Hunters,” Derek growls, and the fact that he has no idea who he’s looking at somehow makes it through the haze of Stiles’ brain. 

“Derek, wait-”

“Hunters,” a second deep voice, with a little more roughness to it, confirms. He raises his gun and points it straight at Derek’s chest. “And we kill werewolves.”

  
“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles says, hands up and palms out, because maybe if he chants it enough, this will no longer be real. Even though  the sawed off that Dean -holy cheese and crackers, that’s  _ Dean-  _ is aiming at Derek is so very, terrifyingly real.

Stiles knows enough about the Winchesters to know that Dean isn’t storing regular old innocent human bullets in that gun.

But still, like,  _ it’s the Winchesters... _

“Holy cheese and crackers,” Stiles whispers, his jaw dropping. “It’s actually...I mean like, _right here_…” He’s not sure when he moved to stand in front of Derek, but suddenly someone is saying -

“Get out of the way, kid,” Hallucination Dean says to him. Because he has to be. There is no way, no  _ freaking _ way, that the two men standing in front of him are actually…

“The Winchesters.” Stiles lets out a whoop and a giddy laugh once reality sets in. “Dude!” He tells Derek. “It’s the freaking Winchesters!” 

Derek snarls and bares his teeth. “Get out of the way, Stiles.”

“Uh, no. No, I’m good.” Stiles holds up a hand, because even in his fight-flight-freeze-so very freezing to take it all in state, he knows he’s got a better chance appealing to Sam. “Please. This one isn’t...he doesn’t...don’t kill this one. Don’t hurt him. He’s...he’s good.”

“Good,” Dean repeats, as if Stiles wasn’t holding a staring contest with Sam.

Stiles nods. “He’s saved me - well, okay, you know what? If you’re keeping score, I’ve saved him just as much- okay yeah not important,” he rushes out at Derek’s growl. “But he’s good. He doesn’t kill just to kill -”

“So he’s killed. Awesome.” Dean re-adjusts his grip on his gun.

“No, no," Stiles says quickly. "I mean, yes, but...so have you.”

Sam snickers, like honest to God snickers, and it makes Stiles smile. “He’s got us there, Dean.” 

“Yeah, well, Fido still looks like he’s about to rip our heads off, so,” Dean fingers the trigger. “I’m gonna go ahead.”

“No!” Stiles screams, jerking a few inches to the right to stand stock still in front of Derek. “Don’t. Please. Let’s...my dad has whiskey, that’s your favorite, right? Let’s have a drink and talk about it.”

“You can’t drink,” Derek and Dean say together.

“See? You’re already getting along.” Stiles reaches out a shaky hand and lowers Dean’s gun for him, because he’s still kind of convinced this is all fake, so what’s the harm in touching the weapon of one of the greatest hunters of all time, right? 

“So,” he says, shooting one last pleading look at Sam. “About that drink.”

  
  


“Who. The hell. Are Sam. And Dean.” It’s not a question so much as a demand, but Stiles is used to that from Derek, so even though it’s two in the morning and an Alpha werewolf has just climbed through his window, Stiles just rolls with it, easy peasy.

“Dude. Netflix. Get some.” Stiles rubs his eyes and sits up, blowing out a breath because Derek has no Circadian rhythm to speak of. “Sam and Dean Winchester. Hunters. Brothers. Sexy as-”

Derek growls.

“What? You saw them. Anyway, look it would take like twelve seasons to catch you up but, suffice it to say that somehow, because my life has not been normal since you literally walked into it, somehow they are here, in our world, and since you’re, you know, you, well. They kind of want to waste you.”

“Waste me.”

“Yeah. Waste you.” So Stiles was talking like one of his heroes, so what. “This has to be your fault. I don’t know how, but it is. Piss off any witches lately? Faeries? Evil step mothers? I don’t know, but something caused our planes to, you know,” Stiles jostles his hands together in a mess of fingers. “So if you don’t want to become a Winchester trophy, your best bet is to be on your best wolfy behavior. Okay? Okay. Cool. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Why did you say that?” Derek asks. 

“What, that’s it’s your fault? Because somehow every mess that I get into is.”

“Not that. That I’m...that I’m good.” Derek looks away for a moment, like he’s, wait, like he’s  _ embarrassed  _ or something, and that just doesn’t jive. “When Dean wanted to kill me, you - God, you idiot, Stiles, you stood in front of me- and told him not to. Because I’m good.”

“I -”

Derek is suddenly flush against his bed, knees pressing into the mattress, hovering over him like the sexy, insecure creeper he is. “Why would you say that?”

Stiles mouth suddenly feels much too dry. “Because,” he whispers. “Because it’s true.” He holds Derek’s gaze until the Alpha red flashes in his eyes, and in the dark of his room, Stiles blinks at the sudden color. “I mean, yeah, you’re constantly grouchy, you don’t say please, and you have the social grace of a picnic ant, but...it’s not like I want Dean to shoot you.”

Derek huffs a breath. Stiles figures he can fall back asleep now, but apparently he’s mistaken because Derek swings out his desk chair, plops into it backwards, and braces his arms across the back. “Tell me everything you know about these Winchesters,” he says.

Stiles takes a breath, and then does.


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay. Tell me one thing,” Stiles says solemnly, looking at Sam. “Is the library at the bunker real?”

“As real as that scowl on your boyfriend’s face,” Dean affirms, studying the posters on Stiles’ bedroom wall. 

Stiles lets out a whoop of excitement. “Oh man. That is seriously awesome.”

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Derek says. 

“Can I come see it?” Stiles begs excitedly. 

“It’s a bit far from home for you, kid.” Dean turns to him. “Plus I don’t think Fido over there would be too crazy about you hopping in our car.”

“Oh my God, the car.” Stiles whirls around in his chair a few times before settling to face Derek. “Their car, Der. You’ve gotta see it.”

“No way in hell am I cleaning fur off of Baby’s seats,” Dean scowls. 

“Keep talking, and you won’t have your arms to clean anything.” Derek stands in front of Stiles, glaring at Dean. 

“You’d be welcome to see the library, Stiles,” Sam says, jerking Dean backwards with a hand on his elbow. “If you’re ever in the area. But for now, we need to focus on what brought us here.”

“Right. Totally.” Stiles nods. “So, uh, what did bring you here?”

Dean gives him a long suffering look. “Really? You have to ask?”

"The vampires. Right."

"There you go." Dean jerks his head towards Stiles' desk. "Sam, check his laptop."

"What? No, Sam, don't check his laptop." Stiles stumbles over a pile of dirty laundry in his haste to beat Sam to his computer. "Stiles' files are just for Stiles."

Dean raises an eyebrow, and looks at Derek. "You deal with this every day?"

Derek sighs. "You have no idea."

"I've got my own computer, Dean." Sam runs a hand through his hair. "It's back at the motel."

"Yeah, where we spent the night. Without that drink, I might add," Dean says, glaring at Stiles.

"Anyway," Sam says before Dean can start in again, "We need to find out where the nest is. Was yesterday your first encounter with them?"

"Yes," Derek snarls. "And we can take care of it."

"We?" Dean asks. "You and Skinny Minnie over here?"

"Me and my pack," Derek grits out.

Dean turns to Sam. "There's a whole pack. Awesome. We come to get vamps, and on top we get werewolves. Yahtzee."

"No," Stiles says, because he's seen their show enough times to know what that meant. "No yahtzee. No hurting of the Dereks, remember? That includes his pack."

"You've got some fire in you, kid," Dean says, a slightly impressed look on his face. "Might have made a good hunter."

"Really?" Stiles flushes under the praise. "Because I can totally-"

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek commands.

Stiles rolls his lips inward, then goes to stand next to Derek. "They're really good, Der. I think we should let them in on this one."

"Great." Sam heads for the door. "Stay safe. Don't go out at night until we've cleared the nest. And stay -"

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. "I said he should let you in on it. Not take it completely." Dean's brows go up again, and really, he and Derek are scarily similar.

Not that Stiles doesn't have more important things to think about right now. "No one knows these woods better than Derek," Stiles continues. "You'd be idiots not to want his help."

Sam glances at his brother. "He's got a point, Dean."

"Sam-"

"And," Stiles says, a triumphant grin on his face because he's about to play his ace in the hole. "My dad is the sheriff. No one can keep you under the radar like I can."

Dean makes a frustrated noise. "You're telling me our only sources of help on this case are a pissed off werewolf and a motor mouth teenager?"

Sam shrugs. "We've had worse."

Stiles nods, some of his favorite episodes flashing through his brain. "You totally have."

"Fine," Dean grits out. He jerks his head towards Derek. "But keep him on a leash."

Derek steps in front of Stiles, baring his teeth at Dean. Stiles feels an odd sort of pride at the way Dean flinches back, subtle and instinctive but a flinch nonetheless.

"Der." Stiles lays a hand on his arm. "That's the brother with the quick temper, remember? I've seen you bleed enough times this week. Can we retract the fangs? Please?"

Derek's muscles shift beneath Stiles' hand. He eases, but only slightly. He looks at both brothers, then lasers in on Dean. "You hurt one of my pack, I'll rip you to shreds."

"That a boy, Der." Stiles claps him on the back. "Way to get on their good side."

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean looks at Stiles. "Is this a joke?"

"Uhhh. No?" Stiles' mouth curves upward, and he looks to where Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson are all surrounding them in the middle of Derek’s loft. "I don't understand." 

"Your 'pack' is a bunch of teenagers?" Sam asks Derek.

"Seriously," Dean says. "This looks like a high school party gone wrong, not a dangerous, fear-inducing werewolf pack."

Derek flashes his teeth in a menacing smile. "My pack is more than capable of taking down a few vampires. But go ahead, underestimate them. Actually, why don't I have them practice on you first?"

"I'll take a turn." Erica saunters up to Sam. "He's yummy."

"Uh, I'll pass, thanks." Sam lays his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes.

"Fine." Erica shrugs one shoulder. "Your loss." She curves her body towards Dean, a cunning smile on her face. 

"Don't bother," Stiles says without thinking. "He's taken." 

"Excuse me?" Dean asks.

Derek startles when a dark-haired, blue-eyed man appears in front of him. "How the hell- "

"Uh, Der? Ix-nay on the ell-hay. Cas in an angel," Stiles tells him.

"An angel," Derek repeats.

"Cas, what are you doing here?" Dean asks. "We didn't call you."

The man - Cas - looks over at Stiles. "Someone did."

Stiles ducks his head sheepishly, then looks up, eyes dancing. "This is Castiel! Derek, I told you about him when I was explaining the show. He's -"

"An angel, yep. Got it." He didn't, because  _ what the hell _ , but he was willing to go along with anything that would speed this entire hunt process up. He jerks his chin towards Dean. "And he's with you?"

"Absolutely not," Dean says, at the same time Sam says, "Pretty much," and Stiles says, "Totally together."

Derek raises an eyebrow at Dean, then looks to Stiles, who says, "Have you even seen your own show? You two are definitely fucking." He looks at Derek over Dean's sputtered objections and mouths,  _ they're totally fucking. _

The pack starts whooping and making jokes, Dean is as red as the blood Derek shed last week, Stiles is grinning, and Sam is looking upwards with a frustrated expression Derek knows all too well.

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, letting the white noise of all the commotion swirl around him. He gives it one more minute, and then lets out a roar loud enough to wake the dead. 

The loft falls silent.

“Anyone who says one word in the next five minutes is automatically benched for this hunt, you got it?”

His pack stares at him. Scott clamps a hand over Stiles’ mouth. Even Dean, though his eyes are flaring, stays silent. “Good,” Derek says. He pulls down the sheet hanging on the wall that serves as a covering for his various maps and blueprints. “Most of the attacks have happened within this circle.” He gestures to a section on the left side of the map. "And they’ve all happened at night. Seeing as how we are less than two hours till full dark, we have time to come up with a plan.”

Everyone still stays silent.

Derek points at Sam, because he seems to have the most wits about him. “You. Thoughts. Go.”

Sam scowls, but voices his opinion. “Vamps usually have too much confidence and not enough manpower. But we’d still be stupid to underestimate them.”

“Our best bet is to plant some bait, let ‘em get comfy and distracted, and then gank their asses,” Dean throws in.

“Awesome,” Stiles and Isaac chorus.

“Not really.” Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

Something unfurls in Derek’s gut, something that tells him he really, really won’t like what Dean says next. 

He’s right. Because Dean is looking at Stiles like he’s the holy grail. 

“No,” Derek growls. 

Dean has the balls to smirk. “Thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

Sam shifts. “Dean…”

The pack starts whispering amongst themselves, but Derek ignores them. Stiles is suddenly by his side, pulling on his arm. “Der, it’s cool. I can-”

“Be their bait?” Derek knows his eyes are flashing red, and it’s taking everything he has not to let his fangs and claws rip Dean apart. “Think again, lumberjack.”

“Look, we aren’t in the business of killing innocents, okay?” Dean stares him down. “We’ll be at his side the whole time. Just, out of view, that’s all.” 

Sam rubs the back of his neck. “He is just a kid, Dean…”

“What??” Stiles jumps in front of him. “Hell no! Not just a kid! Have you seen the shit I’ve done for these mangy animals? I mean of course you haven’t, but trust me, it’s been above and beyond, okay? I can do this. I can help.”

“No,” Derek says again, and something deep within him feels pride at the way Stiles flinches a little. 

It doesn’t last, because immediately after Stiles is back in his face. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Derek.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“You don’t!”

“If you think for one second I’m going to let you-”

“Let me?” Stiles squawks. “Listen, Sourwolf, you don’t ‘let me’ do anything. You-”

“Enough!” 

Derek’s head whips around at the same time as Stiles’.

Castiel glares at them both, then shares the honor with Dean. “I will go with the boy. Dean is right. It makes sense for the most vulnerable member of the pack to be bait.”

“Excuse me-”

“But he will not be alone,” Castiel continues. “I will shadow him. Protect him. The creatures of the night will not see me.”

Derek fights another growl. He still doesn’t like it. But people are dying, innocent people. And as much as he hates to admit, his pack has zero experience with something like this. “Fine,” he concedes. “But you stay with him, every step of the way. And if something starts to turn sideways, we’re going in, whether he gives the signal or not,” he says, jerking his head towards Dean.

“Fine,” Sam agrees, before Dean can cut in.

“Awesome,” Stiles says again. He looks to his friends. “So, what does one wear to a vampire trapping?”


	3. Chapter 3

"Scott, I know you can hear me. If I don't make it, toss my computer, okay?"

"If you are trying to cover your tracks, what you really need to destroy is the hard drive. More specifically, the tiny little magic disk inside," Sam points out.

Stiles claps his hands together then points at Sam. "Yes. True. Man, are you sure I can't come back with you guys? Just for like, a week. I feel like I could learn so much, to help me with-"

Derek clamps a hand around Stiles' elbow. "To help you with shutting up? Are you trying to tell the entire state that we're here?"

Stiles barely misses tripping over a fallen branch, and refuses to admit that Derek's warm grip on him is the only thing keeping him balanced. "Dude, I'm about to die. Let me fanboy, okay?"

Derek lets out a low growl, and abruptly spins them around. Stiles is all too familiar with the way his back hits the nearest solid surface, and wow, Derek, tree bark hurts, yeah? "Derek," he whines. "I know you like to manhandle but can you not do it in front of the most badass-"

"You are not about to die."

Stiles rolls his lips inward, because even when he's trying to figure out what to say, his mouth still moves. "I was kidding."

"Were you?" Derek's hands curl into Stiles' jacket. "Because you can't go into this thinking like that, you got it? This isn't one of your little high school scavenger hunts, Stiles, these are vampires. And they will bite you, and drain you, and shred you to pieces. Is this sinking in?"

"Jesus, Derek, I-"

Derek gives him a shake. "Is it?"

"Yes!" Stiles shout-whispers. He takes a moment, really takes a moment to study Derek's face, and realizes anger isn't the only thing he sees swirling in Derek's dark eyes. He lifts a hand to Derek's cheek. "I'll be okay, Der. I promise." 

Derek lets go of his jacket but doesn't step away. "Stiles -"

"Would it help if I tell you I'm really fucking scared? No, actually, uh, more like terrified." His hand slides down to Derek's shoulder. "I know Scott and Isaac and the others have my back, and I know you get all wolfy jealous when I talk about them - and please, when this is over, oh man are we gonna talk about that- but Sam and Dean are good, Derek, they're freakin' amazing, and even when they lose, they win, so it's gonna be okay. Cas is an angel, you remember that? He may not have all his grace, but he's still one powerful mofo." He's blabbering, he knows he is, but Derek is still looking him over like it's the last time he'll ever do it, completely ignoring the stares from the three men around them. Stiles' voice is shaky when he speaks again, but he's pretty confident he hasn't read this wrong, hasn't been reading the last several _months_ wrong, and while Derek may have trouble using his words, well, Stiles never has. "Know what else I have?"

Even only in moonlight, Stiles can see Derek's gaze is intense, and a little soft. So he finishes his thought. "I have you. I know you won't let anything happen to me."

Derek wraps a hand around Stiles' wrist where it lay over his heart. "Stay with Cas. Please."

Stiles nods. 

"Okay I don't know what schedule the rest of you are on, but I've got a date with some vamps in like twenty minutes, and I'm really not known for being a fashionably late, high-maintenance kind of guy, so." Dean adjusts the dagger at his side. "Let's get the lead out, huh?"

"He'll be fine," Sam assures Derek. He comes to flank Stiles, Castiel coming up on the other side. In about thirty feet, Stiles knows it will just be him and Cas, and then for the home stretch, just him, though Cas won't be far. Sam and Dean had shown them the plan to veer off, one to the left and one to the right, while Derek is to double back and circle around to the opposite side of the woods, flanked by his pack. Stiles can't hear or see her, but he knows Allison is planted up in one of the trees, crossbow ready, and covered in a concoction made by Deaton to mask her scent.

He takes a breath, and focuses on the strength of the hunters besides him and his Alpha behind him.

"Hey, look," he hears Dean say from behind him. "Cas is one badass angel. He'll take care of your boy."

"Don't touch me," Derek responds.

Stiles belts out a laugh. He can't see Derek, but he knows exactly how stony his face must look. "Oh, Der. Don't ever change." He hears a low rumble, a sound he knows is just for him, and Stiles squares his shoulders. He can do this.

"Be careful," he hears Derek say as he disappears into the trees. 

"Promise," Stiles whispers. He knows Derek will hear. 

Another few moments of walking, and the brothers come to a stop. "Ok, kid." Dean unsheathes a small knife. "Ready?"

Stiles takes a breath, then nods. He holds out his left arm. Dean grabs it and yanks up Stiles' sleeves. "Wait," Stiles says. "Uh."

Dean scowls. "Don't tell me you're backing out now."

"No, no," he says quickly. He lets out a noise. It's almost a laugh. "It's just, Derek is totally gonna flip, since we, yanno, didn't tell him about this part, and he will know if I lie to him, and I mean, let's be honest. If he asks me who did it, and I say it was you, um, yeah, I'm afraid he might actually legit kill you? So, um." Stiles glances at Sam. "It's probably better if he does it." 

Dean stares at him. Stiles shrugs, and Sam makes an effort not to let his chuckle turn into a full blown laugh. "He's got a point, Dean."

"Fine!" Dean growls. It's more impressive in real life than on the show, and come on, Stiles is friends with wolves, so that's really saying something.

He turns to Sam, nodding his go ahead. Sam takes Dean's knife and makes a quick cut across the top of Stiles' forearm, squeezing the skin around it until a thick strip of blood is coating his skin.

"This is it, kid." Dean claps him on the back. "We've got your six."

"You'll do fine," Sam tells him. "Remember to stall as long as you can, but the second one of them comes at you, grab the knife we gave you-"

"And use the fuck out of it," Dean finishes. 

Stiles nods. "I got this." He bites back a chuckle when Castiel nods at the brothers and says, "Yes. We've got this."

Sam and Dean recede into the woods, leaving Stiles alone with Cas.

Twenty unsteady feet later, he's on his own.

Stiles doesn't remember much of the fight. He doesn't remember three vampires coming at him at once, slowly surrounding him, their smiles evil and their fangs sharp and bloody. He doesn't remember mouthing off to the leader, or how he got the shit clawed out of his shirt. He doesn't remember getting knocked onto his ass on the forest floor, or the sharp teeth raking along his skin, playing, maiming, teasing, before going in for the kill.

He remembers a crapton of blue light, and Sam and Dean shouting each other's names, and Derek landing on the ground right in front of him, fully shifted, red eyes blazing. 

He doesn't remember bleeding through his jeans, or Derek biting the vampire attacking Stiles so badly that the creature's body was practically torn in two. He doesn't remember Scott and Issac ripping apart three others, or seeing several vampires fall to the ground, poisoned arrows sticking out of their hearts, thank you Allison.

He remembers how soft Derek's voice was as he carried Stiles from the woods, whispering to him to _just stay awake, stay with me, baby, please, dammit Stiles! _He remembers someone wrapping gauze around his forearm, his ribs, his thigh.

He doesn't remember passing out in Derek's arms, or the violent noises Derek made when anyone tried to get too close. 

But it's okay, because what Stiles doesn't remember, Scott and Issac are now animatedly telling him. "Okay and then the one guy had Derek against a tree, right, but Derek wolfs the fuck out, right in his face, and like," Scott mimics a clawing action, "fangs and claws, man. Tore him to shreds. Then Isaac jumps onto one guy's back-"

"And Scott sneaks up on him in front, and we just-" Issac rips his hands apart from each other.

"Wow. Who knew wolves could be so blood-thirsty?" Stiles winces as he sits up.

"Woah, man." Scott presses on Stiles' uninjured shoulder. "Derek will kill us if we like, let you move one inch."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna kill Derek if he makes me lie here so long I wet the bed, so, help me up."

Scott and Isaac look at each other.

"Dudes!" Stiles exclaims. "Seriously?" 

Isaac rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, it's just, Alpha's been kind of touchy lately with his threats, you know?"

"When isn't he?" Stiles scoots his butt backwards, trying to leverage his back off the bed. 

"Okay but like, really touchy," Scott explains. "Like, penalty of death touchy."

"Scott," Stiles grits out. "I will kill you myself if you don't help me up right now."

They both cock their heads. "He's still ripping Dean a new one," Scott tells Isaac.

"Yep." Issac and Scott both reach for Stiles. "Let's move quick."

"Holy freaking finally." Stiles bites his lip to keep from crying out as they help him out of bed and to the bathroom. 

When he comes out, his friends are nowhere to be seen. Derek, however, is standing by the bedroom window. As soon as he hears the bathroom door open, he swings around, and pins Stiles with a glare. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Stiles glances back towards the bathroom. "You seriously want to know?" He looks around. "Oh, God. Please tell me you didn't kill them."

"They're cleaning up," Derek says shortly. "Get back in bed."

"I have a few scrapes and bruises, Der, not intestines falling out of my guts."

"A few...are you serious?"

Stiles sighs. "Derek-"

"You don't heal. Not like we do. Dammit, Stiles, you bled so badly you passed out. I can't..."

"Hey." Stiles shuffles over to him. "How were we supposed to know they'd come at me all at once? And anyway, it worked, didn't it? I don't remember much, but Scott's account was very vivid."

Strong hands settle gently onto his hips. Derek ducks his head into the crook between Stiles' neck and shoulder. "I don't ever want to see you like that again," he breathes. "Ever."

"Okay, well, this is Beacon Hills, and we have werewolves, and hunters, and killer lizards, and bullies, and-" Derek's low growl cuts him off. "Hey." He tries to get Derek to look at him, but Derek isn't done scenting him, _nuzzling_ him. "I'm okay, Der. I mean, yeah, I hurt, and I really don't ever wanna feel fangs again, I mean unless they're yours, but-"

Derek's growl sounds completely different this time, and his hands tighten on Stiles' waist.

Stiles sucks in a breath. "Oh, kay, filing that little bit of information away for later." He hears an engine rumble outside, and his eyes widen. "Are they leaving?"

"Damn right they're leaving."

"No!" Stiles scrambles to the window, ignoring the pain and Derek's swearing. "Wait!" He yells down to Sam and Dean. "Just hang on a sec!"

"Stiles! What the hell?"

"They're the Winchesters, Derek, the actual honest to Chuck _Winchesters!_ Please, please help me downstairs to say goodbye."

Derek crosses his arms. 

Stiles stares him down. "Derek. Hale. I may not remember much, but I sure as shit remember Dean ganking a vamp who was sneaking up on you and about to make you Dracula chow. And something tells me you do, too. So get. Me. Down there. To say goodbye!" 

Derek rolls his eyes, but comes to Stiles' side so he can lean his weight onto Derek, because Stiles knows Derek will flip if he breaks any of his stitches. "Thank you. Jeez. Was that so hard?" he asks Derek as they open the front door. 

"Don't think for one second that full-naming me will get you your way every time, Stiles," Derek warns as he helps Stiles down the steps. Sam and Dean are coming their way, saving Stiles the trip down the driveway.

"I won't," Stiles tells him. He flashes Derek a smile. "Something tells me that once these stitches are out, I'll figure out some other methods of persuasion."

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" Dean looks him over. "You're gonna break your damn stitches."

"Seriously, you two are way too alike." Stiles takes in the green eyes, perfect hair, and worn jacket. "Dean freaking Winchester. This will forever be the coolest thing that ever happened to me." 

"Yeah, well." Dean's eyes crinkle a little at the corners. "You aren't so bad yourself, kid."

Sam bends down to give Stiles a gentle hug. "I put my number in your phone. Use it anytime you need to, alright?"

Stiles holds on a few extra seconds, because if he was ever meant to have a brother - an older one, not a goofy one he had to watch all the time like Scott- he'd want him to be just like Sam. He whispers as much into Sam's ear, because he knows Sam won't laugh, and he doesn't. He just gives Stiles a squeeze, and points to him. "Remember. Wipe the hard drive." He winks, and heads to the Impala.

Dean clicks his tongue at Stiles, and if he wasn't so head over heels for Derek, Stiles would have swooned right there.

"Wait," Derek growls.

Stiles deflates. "Aw, man, don't ruin my buzz, dude."

Derek steps in front of him, putting himself between Stiles and Dean. "Oh, come on," Stiles whines.

Derek ignores him, and looks Dean in the eye. "I don't like you."

"I'm flattered, Fido. Bet I could buy you a drink and change your mind, though," Dean drawls. 

"But you had my back out there. And you..." Derek looks upwards, like it's taking some divine strength to get the words out. "You worked with my pack. Not against us. And I know you saved my ass at least once, so." He shrugs, like someone saving his life is no big deal. "Thanks."

"Wow. You need some water? Wouldn't want you to choke." Dean glances at Stiles, then looks back to Derek. "I'd be a lot worse for wear too, if not for you. And don't think I didn't see you wrestle one of those fanged bastards off of Sammy, so we'll call it even, yeah? We done?"

"Hopefully forever," Derek responds. 

"No," Stiles cuts in. "Not forever. Come back anytime, Dean! Or call us! We can come to the bunker. We can-" Derek slides an arm around Stiles' waist and carefully pulls him close. "Oh," Stiles says, his eyes going a bit cloudy as he molds himself to Derek. "This is good. I like this."

Dean's chuckle rumbles through him, and Stiles gives him a wave. "See ya, kid. Fido."

"Winchester."

They watch as the brothers drive away. Cas had departed with the dawn, Derek had ordered his betas to scatter, and Stiles' dad was still at the station.

"Welp." Stiles nuzzles Derek, enjoying the fresh air and the feel of Derek's strong arms around him. "Looks like it's just you and me, Fid-"

"Don't. Finish. That word."

"Aww! You don't want anyone else using his nickname!" 

"Stiles."

"Derek liiiiikes Deeean," Stiles sings. 

Derek growls, then runs his hands down to cup Stiles' ass. "Mess with me all you want, now. But when you're healed..." He bites the words into Stiles' neck, but his hold is gentle as he lifts him into his arms. 

Stiles gingerly wraps his arms and legs around Derek, letting his head fall onto his shoulder. "You love it when I mess with you," he says sleepily.

"Hmmph." Derek carries him to the sofa. Stiles protests when he starts to put him down, and Derek chuckles. "Oh," Stiles says, "I like that sound. A lot. You should do that way more often. But no. No leaving."

"I'm just gonna grab some waters and a blanket. Needy." He's back in less than a minute, and lets Stiles arrange himself against him.

Once he's settled, Derek wraps his arms around Stiles. "Stiles. I..." He ducks his head against Stiles' skin, and breathes in deep.

A hand cards through his hair, and Stiles whispers, "I know. Me too."

Derek brushes his lips against Stiles' skin. They both know what he's saying, and they both know one day he actually will. Stiles finds one of Derek's hands and squeezes, and after a minute, Derek squeezes back. 

They sit together, wrapped up as best as Stiles' injuries allow. After a while Derek grabs the remote, flicking on the TV. "Wanna watch something till you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

"What do you want to watch?" 

Stiles grins at him, and queues up Netflix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Stay safe and well, my lovelies. These are tough times for us all, and I hope fics are helping you like they are me.


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